


breathe

by tiptoes



Series: Scisaac Week 2013 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Scisaac Week, Scisaac Week 2013, contains trigger warnings for non-graphic violence and child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:11:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoes/pseuds/tiptoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Isaac learns to adapt, learns to keep his mouth shut. But he still can’t stop the nightmares.</p>
<p>("Tragic Tuesday" of Scisaac Week 2013)</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe

**Author's Note:**

> May not follow continuity 100%?????? Contains possible triggers for child abuse, violence, slurs, and general Not Nice Things.

Isaac had nightmares when he was little, too.

He always knew his dad liked Camden more than him. He was always afraid he was going to do something wrong to make dad angry with him, and he was always angry. His mom was always there with a soothing hand and a flimsy excuse that eight year olds just believe automatically because moms don’t lie, right?

Right?

But Isaac’s mom lied to him when she said she was getting better, when she said she would be out of the hospital soon. And at thirteen years old he believed her just like he did at eight, but he should have known better.

Because at fourteen, he didn’t have his mother’s soothing hands and flimsy excuses anymore. Angry, drunken yelling replaced the lullabies, and slaps that left bruises on his cheek replaced the comforting hugs.

But Isaac learns to adapt, learns to keep his mouth shut. But he still can’t stop the nightmares.

* * *

 

When Scott was little his father left him with nothing.

(At last, to an eight year old, it sure _felt_ like nothing.)

Scott remembers screaming – lots of screaming – and the next day, his father acted like nothing had happened.

The day after that, he was gone.

Melissa didn’t cry. Scott didn’t know – still doesn’t know – whether he would have felt better if his mom had cried. He knows now that she was putting on a brave face for him, and he’s grateful for that.

He just wishes he knew why his dad had left.

During the summer he turned fourteen, his dad comes back – but just for a short while. Scott meets him out on the porch, and he can tell his mom’s pacing by the open window. His dad calls him “sport” like he used to, and Scott can almost imagine that everything’s the same. His dad says he wanted to see him before he went off to high school.

“Why did you leave?” Scott asks suddenly, and his dad stills. “Your mom and I had a little disagreement,” he replies.

Scott laughs, slightly bitter and slightly angry. “ _Little?_ ” he scoffs, kicking his new trainers into the dusty ground. “You _left_ us. You didn’t call for six years, dad. You didn’t even send any cards on my birthday, or–”

His dad just shakes his head sadly. “Your mother–”

“Stop blaming everything on her!” Scott yells, his voice breaking embarrassingly in the middle of the sentence but he’s so blinded by anger that he doesn’t care. “She’s the one taking care of me! I know I’m a problem, okay? But _she_ hasn’t left me!”

Scott’s dad looks like he’s about to say something – some shitty excuse Scott probably would have believed when he was eight – but Scott rolls his eyes.

“Forget it,” he says, kicking off his new trainers. “I don’t want your stupid gifts. I don’t want to see you here ever again!”

He storms back into the house, leaving his father standing out on the dusty porch with his new trainers. He runs past his mother and slams the door to his room behind him.

He cried that night. He padded to his mother’s room and cried into his shoulder like he did when he was a kid.

But his father didn’t really leave him with nothing. He left him with his mother, and she was all he’d ever need.

* * *

 

_“You little faggot!”_

_“What’s wrong with you, you worthless little bastard?”_

_“What are you going to do? Are you going to_ cry _, you little bitch?”_

Isaac gasps, flinging the thin blanket away from him. His hands grasp at his sweat-drenched curls, tugging and pulling and he tries to force air into his lungs. His ears are ringing, and his head’s hurting and goddammit why can’t he just _breathe?_

Isaac can’t even register Scott’s hands, warm against his back. He can barely hear Scott’s slightly panicked cries of “Isaac? What’s wrong?”

He wrenches out of Scott’s grasp and almost trips off the bed in his haste to just _get some air in his lungs_.

He falls to the floor, elbows pressed hard against the rough carpet, claws digging deep ridges into his palms. Scott falls to his knees next to him, hands grappling at Isaac’s shoulders in an attempt to get him to stay calm.

“ _Isaac!_ ” Scott says desperately. “Isaac, stop. _Please._ ”

Isaac’s hand comes up to clutch at his chest, his breath coming in shallow and quick and _not enough_. His head turns minutely to the side, and Scott can see the glow of gold beneath his hooded eyes.

Isaac’s claws are digging into his chest, thin trickles of blood staining the white of his shirt. Scott takes his hand in his – ignoring the claws now digging into his fingers – and runs his other hand through Isaac’s hair.

Isaac howls brokenly, and Scott silently thanks god that his mom’s on the graveyard shift tonight. “Shhh,” Scott hums close to Isaac’s ear, letting him slump down into his arms. “It’s alright.”

“Nobody’s gonna hurt you. I will never let anybody hurt you, Isaac. Everything’s alright.”

And Isaac – still half-shifted and confused – believes him.

* * *

 

That night, Isaac tells Scott about his father. Tells him things that he’s never actually told anyone before. He even tells him about his mother, and her kind hugs and her smile that faded too fast. He talked about how he used to hide on his bedroom, and his dad would shout through the door about how he killed his mother.

Scott tells Isaac about his father, something he hasn’t told many people about either. He feels almost embarrassed – his dad never _beat_ him, never locked him in a freaking _freezer_ – but Isaac presses soft kisses to his face when he chokes back treacherous tears.

“I’m so happy I found you,” Scott whispers, and Isaac’s grin breaks through the dark of the room and _shines_.

“I’m happy you found me too,” he replies, and his hand finds Scott’s in the dark, and everything’s alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I FORGOT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY also today is "kinky wednesday" and i can't write smut. at all.
> 
> tumblr: xoxogossipenjolras


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